GMRX: While bullets fly
By MIKE SHEARER
Arts & Reviews Editor
"Bullets fly like popcorn on the screen. It's making love that can't be seen. Why?"—"Ask Yourself Why"
It's easy to say, "If I had children, I'd want them to see an X-rated movie if the movie says something significant."
To actually face the situation of deciding whether a ten-year-old boy is ready for sex scenes might be a different story, but our furtiveness about the topic can certainly do nothing but confuse and frustrate youngsters.
It seems an aberration, in any event, that some of the most beautiful movies ever made are banned for children because dirty nakedness and dirty lovemaking are shown.
Rachel, Rachel and Midnight Cowboy, two of the finest movies ever made, would probably do less harm to a child's mind than King Kong Meets Godzilla (rated G for general audiences) or anyone of the many violent westerns and war movies into which children are eagerly ushered.
Now there may be something innately obscene about Jon Voight's bare rear end or Joanne Woodward's unadorned breasts. There may be something equally
obscene about showing men and women writhing together in cinema-exposed bliss, though I doubt it sincerely.
But, supposing these scenes were obscene, then we must do the logical thing and ban other obscenities from the eyes of the under-18 . . . for one—the obscenity of murder in the standard western and war movie.
That children should be discouraged from seeing a human, feeling Jon Voight doing human things in Midnight Cowboy while the same children are being encouraged to watch King Kong kill half the population of New York City is a savage abomination.
Following the logical evolution of shielding children from obscenity would be to shut the dears up in un-televisioned, un-booked rooms at all times while they aren't being watched.
If we want to call the human body, human emotions and human passions dirty, then we had better call people dirty.
We'd better eliminate art, close the theaters and kiss GMRX (general, mature, restricted and adults only, if you haven't been to a movie lately) goodbye.
But before we do, we should ask ourselves, "Why?"
FILMS: Bandwagon Butch BY RICHARD GEARY
Kansan Reviewer
There are all kinds of reasons why I should not have liked Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid; there are all kinds of reasons why it should not be a very good movie at all.
The picture has a bandwagonish air about it. With its comic- tragic story of the violent life and death of a pair of real-life bandits, it follows in the footsteps of Bonnie and Clyde, without achieving, or seemingly even attempting, its depth and insight. Many scenes, effective as they are, have that faintly familiar ring to them: the gang's first bumbling bank robbery in Bolivia, where they don't know the language; the final shoot-out, with the two men innocently planning their next adventure before being mowed down; the slow-motion deaths of a band of Bolivian thieves.
George Roy Hill, a moderately talented director, has carefully established period mood with still shots and entire sequences tinted in sepia, and then has ruined it by inserting a racy sixties score by, of all people, Burt Bacharach. The atmosphere is further destroyed by Conrad Hall's artsy photography. In fact, most of the movie looks like it was directed to let him show off to his fullest with zoom shots, tricky focus shifts, airy pastellandscapes, and sunlight flashing into the frame.
The story is roughly divided into two parts. The first, in which the pair is chased by a mysterious, faceless, unshakable "superposse," comes off better than the second, which follows their career in Bolivia. In both segments, though, the filmmakers appear very unsure about what, exactly, they want their film to be—or do.
In spite of all these drawbacks, I did like this movie, because it is one of those rare gems that has truly been rescued by its performances. Paul Newman (Butch) and Robert Redford (Sundance) are two of our most intelligent actors, and the rapport between them, both as characters and as actors, is a marvelous thing to behold. Katherine Ross is excellent also as Etta Place, their mutual female companion, and the three of them working together, overcoming the flaccid script, make the difficult art of film acting look easy. At times, their naturalness is a trifle forced, but this only adds to the general tongue-in-cheek nature of the characterizations.
The complete enjoyment of a motion picture requires a certain amount of trust; the viewer must decide at the first if he will allow a film to "have" him for the following two hours. With Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, the decision would be difficult, were it not for the star performers.
From the beginning, you know you're in good hands.
Photographs by one of the founders of modern photography, Edward Weston, are on exhibition in the Kansas Union.
Oct. 2
1969 KANSAN 5
The traveling show, a cross sample of Weston's work, on loan from the George Eastman House, a photographic history museum, will continue through Oct. 20.
By RANDY LEFFINGWELL
Weston's influence on photography was in the effect his realistic photographs had on other photographers in the 1920's. Until that time, photographers tried to apologize for clear pictures by intentionally blurring them. At that time, photography was considered something only the most unsuccessful painter would try.
Kansan Staff Writer
The recognition of photography as a means to record the fine details of life and not as an imitator of painting is partly due to Edward Weston's work.
Weston became intrigued by the amount of detail the camera lens could record, and he began to photograph objects "realistically."
His particular techniques enabled him to capture minute details in his photographs, and his results inspired other photographers to adapt his "realism."
Weston photos displayed
BOOKS
AGAINST INTERPRETATION, by Susan Sontag (Dell, 95 cents) One of the most significant works of criticism of recent years, available in paperback. Susan Sontag is a disarming writer, and her essay on "camp" has become a standard in many collections. Many will want this volume in their libraries.
Weston's interest in abstract forms led to photographing clouds and nudes. But his desire to portray everything he saw realistically, and his awe of nature forced his return to those things that he loved: the sand and waters of California, his home.
THE SPECIALISTS, by Lawrence Block (Gold Medal, 60 cents)—The adventures of Eddie Manso, a call girl, hoodlums, and tough-guy stuff all over the place. Good for an evening when similar stuff isn't on television.
CHARROl, by Harry Whittington (Gold Medal, 60 cents) If you can imagine Elvis Presley in a western then you've got this one, which has been made into a movie. Gunfighting and dames and lots of action and much uninspired writing.
The exhibition of Weston's photographs in the Kansas Union
has also appeared at the William Rockhill Nelson Gallery of Art, Kansas City, Mo.; the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art, New York City; the Louvre, Paris, France; and numerous other art museums around the world.